


Night to Morning (I'll remember you.)

by raelee514



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-08
Updated: 2015-02-08
Packaged: 2018-03-11 05:44:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3316361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raelee514/pseuds/raelee514
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean meets Cas traveling through New York on the night of his birthday.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Night to Morning (I'll remember you.)

January 24, 2005 9:47 p.m.

Dean Winchester shivered as he entered the bar, its stuffy hot air wafting over him and challenging the crisp and cold outside air that had him hugging his leather jacket closer to his frame. It was crowded, classic rock was blaring and Dean smiled, looked like The Gimme Shelter Bar’s name had been as telling as he had hoped. He pushed his way as politely as possible through the crowd, making sure to check out the potential for hook ups. It was his twenty-sixth birthday. If he couldn’t be with his family, he wanted to at least get laid, damn it. The women were beautiful, and some of the men looked promising too. He found himself making eye contact with more than one person right away. Bright welcoming smiles from the women, knowing half-smirks from the men. His birthday was looking a lot more promising than it had begun. 

He was counting the beginning of the week. He’d been laid off from his out of college job at an aerospace firm in Connecticut where he had worked as a mechanical engineer. He’d been the low man on the totem pole, it hadn’t been personal they said. Dean had felt relief. Sure he’d been pissed; no one wanted to lose a job, especially when they were qualified. But the truth was, Dean hadn’t loved his job as much he thought he would. Losing his job meant freedom. He found he missed working on cars, working with his dad. His after school job had always been at his father’s garage, when he’d graduated high school his father had given him the 1967 Impala that had been his dad’s car for most of his parents’ marriage. 

He was heading home to surprise, and maybe disappoint his parents. Dean wanted to work at Dad’s garage again. They’d always wanted more than they’d had for him and his brother, but he didn’t think they’d go against what he wished for himself. He’d been mad he hadn’t been able to leave Connecticut soon enough to reach Lawrence, Kansas for his birthday but he’d make do. This was why he was in The Gimme Shelter bar, leaning against the bar looking to do something he hadn’t had time to do in a long while. Find sex.

The bartender, a guy, gave him a polite smile that wasn’t a promising half-smirk. Dean wasn’t too disappointed, the guy wasn’t really his type. Dean wasn’t quite sure what he was in the mood for the night when it came to sex. He did know what he wanted to drink. “I’ll take a scotch, neat,” he ordered. 

After getting his drink, he looked around and found a place to sit that had a good view of the bar, or more accurately its patrons. He took off his leather jacket. It was hot in the bar and he wanted people to notice how his black T-shirt fitted him. Dean wasn’t the modest type, he knew he was good looking, he thanked his mother for his cheekbones and cupid’s bow mouth, he thanked his Dad for his jawline and six foot one lean frame. Dean kept in shape by running in the mornings, usually with his camera around his neck -- more than once on a weekend he’d gone out to run and hadn’t made it home until his camera ran out of space and the sun was setting. It was a good workout for his mind and body -- not that he really thought of it that way, he really wasn’t some new-agey kind of guy.

He was classic rock, Chevy Impalas and an outward bad boy. No one had to really know that as much as he enjoyed a one night stand he was waiting to feel about someone the way his parents felt about each other. He just never had found that intimate connection. He’d come close once, but she hadn’t understood his lack of ambition at his job and before he knew it Cassie had left saying she needed someone who wasn’t happy with mediocrity. 

Dean frowned. Thinking about Cassie always put him in a foul mood, made him wonder if she’d been right and he wasn’t good enough. Dean purposely sipped more of his scotch and pushed away that train of thought. It was time to focus on now. He would drink this scotch slow, he didn’t want to get a buzz just yet. He wanted to check out the crowd, see who looked his way. Decide just who he wanted. 

Minutes ticked by but Dean wasn’t in a hurry. The bar didn’t close until 2 am, he wasn’t tired and there was no reason to rush this. One night stands might be brief but they are were something he’d always put some thought into. He caught the eyes of a few promising young women, girls really, with thin bodies and some of them with phenomenal breasts peeking out of tops meant to reveal. He saw a few guys that like him weren’t afraid to hide the fact they liked men too, but none of them really grabbed his attention until he locked in on one guy. The man was sitting opposite Dean on the same side of the bar, in the other corner. He wasn’t watching the bar, he had a book with him of all things and a glass of something that looked untouched. His face was mostly in the book, Dean’s gaze swung back to him a few times, mostly because a guy reading in a bar looked out of place. But a few times, Dean caught the man looking up and at him. Every time Dean found himself holding his gaze a few seconds longer than he meant to. It really wasn’t a choice, there was something about the guy’s eyes, which he could tell were blue even several feet away in a dimly lit bar. The third time Dean glanced over and their eyes met Dean made his decision. Dean wanted to give himself a present for his birthday and this guy was it. 

Standing he made his way over to the man, sat down next to him, and grabbed the book. “Why reading a book, when you are here, lots of things to do?”

“I like it, and I didn’t want to come here,” the man said simply but he made no move to take back his book. He sat staring at Dean openly now and Dean had to look down a bit to avoid direct eye contact. There was something disconcerting about it, like he was under a microscope. It also was kind of a turn on, he thought, when he realized he was definitely going to make a move. The man had a great mouth and a low, harsh voice. He wouldn’t mind hearing what that voice might do during sex. 

“Then leave?”

The man sighed. “I would but...” he trailed off, his hands grabbing his book to play with the frayed edges of the cover. 

Dean watched the man’s slender fingers, how they moved against the book and bit his lip before he spoke again. “I’m Dean by the way.” 

“Castiel.”

“Castiel?” Dean echoed.

The man nodded. “It’s a family name, since the time of the Mayflower to hear my grandfather tell it.”

“It’s a mouthful,” Dean said. “Mind if I shorten it?”

“To what?”

“Cas.”

Castiel tilted his head to the side and he seemed to be studying Dean then, as if deciding if Dean could call him ‘Cas’. He waited, somehow hoping the man agreed, not because he wouldn’t call him what he preferred but Dean felt like the guy was a Cas. 

“Yeah, okay.”

“Cool, so Cas, why didn’t you want to be here and why is it you aren’t leaving?”

“I had a bad day at work, a coworker,” Castiel raised his hand and pointed in the direction of the pool table in the bar. “The red head, Anna’s her name, she dragged me here saying it would cheer me up. Then she met him.”

Dean watched a beautiful red head flirting with an okay looking guy as he showed her how to play pool ,though he could tell by the way she held the stick she already knew what she was doing. “He looks like he’s out of his league.”

Castiel made a noise in agreement. 

“And you won’t just leave because?”

“Apartment’s too quiet, makes one think. The ambiance here isn’t conducive to thinking.”

Dean shrugged. “Other ways to not think,” he said with a wink, he was nothing if not forward about his intentions.

Castiel reached out then and touched the drink Dean had thought the man had forgotten. He swallowed half of it yet didn’t appear to be nervous. “There are other ways, yes,” he said. “But I like to know who I do these things with.”

“‘Know’ can be a pretty big word,” Dean heard himself say. 

“True, but I don’t need to know much, just a short life story, your name and where?”

“You mentioned an apartment,” Dean said. “you know my name.”

“The story?”

“Yeah, the story,” Dean grinned and leaned forward, arms on the table between him and Castiel bringing their faces closer. He noticed Castiel moved closer as well, and he licked his lips and opened his mouth to give a short version of his life.

What felt like only twenty minutes later a man kicked their table, startling both Dean and Castiel. Dean looked at the guy, ready to yell when he noticed the lights in the bar were bright, the guy was a bus boy and the music was gone. “Uh?” he felt confused.

“It’s past closing time, the boss has a soft spot for love birds but now you got to get out.”

Dean looked at his watch, it was 2:37 am. “Shit, it’s past my birthday.”

“It’s your birthday?” Castiel said, standing up and putting on what had to be the ugliest trench coat Dean had ever seen. 

Dean eyed the coat. “Really?”

“It’s comfortable,” Castiel sighed. “Why do people bother me about it?”

“It’s just...very Columbo.”

“Who?”

Dean stared. “Seriously, dude?”

Castiel grinned. “Yeah, I’ve heard that too.”

“And here I thought I was unique.”

“Oh you are and it’s your birthday, how come you didn’t mention that before?”

Dean shrugged and fell into step with Castiel as they walked toward the door to the bar. “I guess I didn’t want it to sound like a line.”

“And you grabbing my book and asking why I was reading wasn’t?” 

“It was more direct, instead of oh it’s my birthday therefore fuck me.”

Castiel laughed. “I shouldn’t be still awake, I have work in four hours.”

“So, uh, I’m following you to your place right?” he asked, suddenly feeling insecure, unsure, he’d known he’d wanted Castiel when he’d sat down at his table but once they started talking he’d wanted him even more with each passing second. And it turned out time had slipped away on them. Dean felt his cheeks burn even as they opened the doors and walked out into a cold January night. Sharp air hit them and they both stepped closer to each other as they found out they had to walk against the wind. 

“Uh, actually, I walked here -- I usually walk. It’s just a block or two away. So maybe you could give me a ride?” Castiel asked. 

Dean grinned. “Oh yeah, I’ll give you a ride.”

Castiel shook his head a bit, but smiled and turned away trying to hide his blush. Dean caught it though and felt his heart speed up. This felt different than most hook ups, and he felt doubt start to kick up in his belly but he quashed it down. Castiel was sexy, Dean wasn’t going to let the chance to be with him pass him by. 

“Wow!” 

Dean snapped out of his thoughts at Castiel’s exclamation and looked up and saw it was because he was looking at Dean’s car. His pride and joy. His Impala. “She’s awesome ain’t she?” he asked even though he knew the answer.

“Seriously, you rebuilt this car? After that accident? That...wow talent. She’s beautiful, looks brand new.”

Dean blushed again this time feeling completely heated instead of cooled down by the cold. “Uh, yeah, thanks. You were about to share your life story too -- I mean I told you about having to rebuild my baby and my dad being in a coma...” Dean swallowed. “Shit, man I never talk about that.”

Castiel grabbed his hand. “I’m glad you did. I, yeah...I had a twin brother...”

There had been tears. Tears that had broken something inside of Dean he didn’t know he had when he saw them falling out of Castiel’s blue eyes. He’d wiped them away with his thumbs, saying words of sympathy that felt empty when it came to the loss of a brother, someone who was your other half. Dean had wiped Castiel’s cheeks dry, felt the stubble of Castiel’s face against his thumbs and asked the most innocuous question he could think of. “What do you do?”

Turned out Castiel was an art history professor at a well to do New York State college, that Dean had never heard of in his life. But Dean had a secret liking for art, well photography anyway and Castiel proved to know a lot about its history as well -- and again they talked. 

At some point, Dean’s thumbs had left Castiel’s jaw to be replaced by his mouth. The skin of his lips, burning from the pressure of stubble against them, his tongue tasting the salt from the tears and the cold from the air around them. Dean just kept kissing, Castiel’s hands were on his hips, in his hair, the back of his neck. Castiel’s lips were on his forehead, his nose, his chin. 

Then they were really kissing, pressed together, hands starting to seek out where they could lift up clothing. The two of them breathing heavy, and feeling nothing but the created heat between them. Dean grinned as his hands found the skin of Castiel’s hips, after pushing past the layers of trench coat, suit jacket and a tucked in shirt. Dean thrust his tongue deeper into Castiel’s mouth in celebration and heard the other man groan. Then Dean felt cold palms find the skin of his lower back, go lower, dip under the waist of his jeans and he thrust forward towards Castiel, thinking this would only stop long enough to get to Castiel’s apartment, to get to Castiel’s bed.

And it would have gotten them to Castiel’s bed except a beeping noise started to intrude upon them. Dean tried to ignore it, he wanted to think it wasn’t as close to them as it was. But Castiel groaned again, this time in annoyance and not pleasure. Dean didn’t like the sound but he pulled away from the other man. And as he blinked away the lust, the passion, the heat he was slammed with the realization that once again time had slipped away from them.

The sun was rising, the eastern sky was pink-orange, the sky was gray rather than black and Castiel was swearing under his breath, as he pressed a button on his wristwatch. “Crap, I have class in less than two hours, it’s almost 6.”

Less than ten minutes later, with his shaky voiced, “So long, Cas,” ringing in his ears, Dean drove away from Castiel’s apartment complex, having never made it inside, with his hands clenched on his steering wheel and his eyes on Cas via the rearview mirror. He had to fight the urge to turn around, because what good would it do? He had nothing here, he was on his way home after realizing he didn’t want to be somewhere else. It felt weird to not want to get on the road toward Lawrence, but Castiel stood there rumpled and tempting. Dean found himself unable look away from Castiel watching him drive way. Neither one of them had used the word ‘Goodbye’ even though they’d known it was goodbye.

Dean licked his lips, they still tingled from Castiel’s stubble, from kissing Castiel, Dean licked them again and put his focus on his lips wanting to hold onto the night as long as possible. When his lips felt normal again, Dean’s mind wandered to his brother, his parents, how in love his parents were, how much they’d given to him and Sam. And he tried to tell himself he would forget Castiel.


End file.
